


Imagine Dean comforting you after a hunt went wrong

by Iknewyouweremuggle



Series: Supernatural One Shots [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Motel, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sleepiness, Tears, Vampire Hunters, imagine, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknewyouweremuggle/pseuds/Iknewyouweremuggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine coming back from a bad vampire hunt and Dean comforting you when you feel bad</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagine Dean comforting you after a hunt went wrong

You step out of the Impala and bang the door. You don't even wait for Sam and Dean but go straight to your motel room. You always have your own room next to the boys, so you unlock the door and slam it shut behind you. You just want to be alone right now.

It was a simple hunt. Some vampires, just a very little nest. Five, two only a few days old. An old vampire was apparently lonely and thought he needed company. Everything seemed so easy, and that was the thing. It was too easy. You didn't concentrate enough. You provoked one of the new, you wanted to make him angry so it gets more exciting, you underestimated his strength and now a young woman, rather a teenager, is dead.

You can feel tears fill your eyes. It's your fault and you know it. The guilt ties your stomach into a knot. She could be fine, she could be with her parents right now, but you had to play. You throw your bag next to the door and let yourself fall on your bed. You stare at the ceiling while hot tears slowly fall down your cheeks but no sound is to hear. You lay there in total silence.

You don't want to shower, you don't want to eat and you don't want to take care of the injuries you've got. You just want to fall asleep and forget what happened, but you know that as soon as you close your eyes you will see her face blurred with blood and tears and sweat. And her eyes, filled with fear and pain and the worst of all: hope. You want to sleep but you don't want to dream and you know that this is impossible. So you let the tears drop and don't move until you hear a knock on the door. At first you don't react and hope Dean or Sam, the only persons who could possible stand on the other side, will go away, but as whoever it is knocks again and again you stand up. You try to swallow the lump on your throat and open the door, not looking up into his face. It's Dean. He says nothing, just walks in and sits down at your bed. You close the door and want to go into the kitchen to get some beer, but he grabs your wrist and holds you back.

“(Y/N), I know that you feel terrible. I do as well, but don't shut me out.”  
You are surprised. Dean isn't one for chick flick moments. You look in his face and regret it instantly. He doesn't look at you with pity or anger or silent reproach, only with sympathy. He pulls you on his lab and burrows his face in your hair. You lean your temples against his head and close your eyes. After a few moments he pulls away and cup your face with his free hand, the other one still holding your wrist. A small encouraging smile adorns his lips before he kisses your forehead and gently rests his chin at top of your hair, placing your own head on his shoulder. His hand which touched your face before now rubs small circles on your back, trying to comfort you while more tears start to fall. You sit like this for a long time, just listening to his heartbeat and his breathing, simple noises which actually calm you down. Even after your sobbing dies down neither of you move.

“Her blood is on my hands”, you whisper so hushed that you can barely hear yourself, your voice still husky and trembling, but he shakes his head.

“That's not true.” He sounds as if this is a fact, as if he doesn't even consider blaming you. You hide your face in his neck and fight back more tears. His hand wanders to your head, no smoothly stroking your still dirty hair. “We were all in a risky mood. If Sam and I had paid more attention, this wouldn't have happened. Her blood is either on all our hands or it's not our fault at all.”

At first you don't react, but then you look him in the eyes. He's serious. He blames himself, even if this is definitely your fault. You shake your head, but don't say anything. You don't trust your voice.

“Do you want me to stay here? It's almost morning anyway.”  
You nod and stand up. He stands up as well and guides you around the end of the bed to one side. You lay down and scoot so he can lay down as well. When he puts the thin blanket about you two you rest your head on his chest and claw your fingers in his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and draws you nearer.

You both lay there without falling asleep and without saying anything till the sun shines bright. And you never talk about this again. But that's ok.

 


End file.
